“It is that that I would ask,” he went on, looking always at the lake, never at her; “that is what I would beg of you. Let us promise sincerely—let us take a vow never to be angry again. I have suffer enough last night both with my own anger and from yours. I will believe what you may tell me. And let us never be angry so again.”
“It is you who are so unreasonable,” she began.
“No,” he interrupted quickly, “not unreasonable. Jamais je ne me fâche sans raison!”
“Yes, you do too. Just think of last night, you were twice angry for nothing at all. It was terrible!”
He stared afar and seemed to reflect doubly.
“He was bête, that man,” he said at last.
“He wasn’t either. He was very nice; I don’t know how I should have gotten along coming over if I had not had him on the steamer to amuse me.”
“You could have done very well without him at Zurich,” said Von Ibn doggedly; “myself, I did not like him the first minute that I see him.”
“When did you first see him?”